


Alanapped

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [438]
Category: Thunderbirds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 19:54:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10646916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: Anonymous asked: Hi. I was wondering if you could write 'Alan' and 'kidnapped'? Please and thank you! :)





	Alanapped

**Author's Note:**

> so i suck at transferring these across /o\ old fic resurfaced at tumblr

Gordon had given him the heads up, but even so, his heart skipped a beat when the black bag came down.

Hands hustled him roughly but not unkindly down some stairs, into the back of a car.  He could smell familiar perfume, hear the hastily shushed bark of a small dog.

Alan sat back and enjoyed the ride. He amused himself trying to map their course, guess where they were going purely by the sensation of movement.  He could feel the sun on his hand, used that to orientate north – so into the city somewhere?

When the door opened again, he could hear city traffic, city noises, but muted, a little distant.  He was hustled up stairs, and he guessed stonework through his boots.  Then again, this was London; stone was everywhere.  It didn’t help him much in narrowing down his options.

He was taken up one flight of stairs, then another.  The floors here were wood, polish slightly slippery under the tread, and Alan amused himself by making them squeak as they paused on a landing.

A little shove to his shoulder had him still obediently once more.

Another short walk, and he was pushed down onto a chair, high back but luxuriously upholstered.  

The hood was whipped off, leaving him blinking in the bright morning light streaming in through the high windows.

Before him were a small pile of beautifully wrapped presents, a cake piled high with creams, candles already aflame, and a glass of champagne.

“Happy birthday, Alan,” Scott said, raising his glass.

“Who came up with kidnapping as a family tradition?” Penny whispered to John as Alan reached slowly for his own glass.

“Who do you think? Grandma,” John said,

The glass was cool under his fingers.  Alan lifted his first legal drink as an adult.  He raised it in salute to the room, and to those no longer there.  “Cheers.”


End file.
